


Marked in Indelible Ink

by Minxie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: FEST: Summer of Slaves (2013), KINK: BDSM (& all it implies dammit), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 01:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Excerpt:</b> <em>"Shush, pretty," Harry murmurs, nuzzling Scorpius's neck. "You're not allowed to beg tonight."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked in Indelible Ink

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** #45, requested by . Scorpius has been flirting with Harry for a while. Harry believes his lifestyle will be over Scorpius's head. Harry intends to scare Scorpius. What he finds instead is a very relieved and excited young man, ready to devote himself to servitude.  
>  **Notes:** Mad love to @leela_cat, @aislinntlc, and @shinyredrain. ♥ you all for the prereading and listening to me bitch and… and… and. Written for the [2013 HP Owned Summer of Slaves fest](http://hp-owned.livejournal.com/21559.html). @sksdwrld, hope this hits some of what you wanted even if I did take the long road getting there.

"If you take Scorpius up on his offer, Draco Malfoy is going to want you dead."

Looking over his shoulder, Harry grins at Kingsley. "For more reasons than one."

"True enough." Kingsley takes the empty chair at Harry's table. "Does the kid even know your tastes?"

Harry snorts softly. His tastes, indeed. Nothing more than a polite way of saying Harry Potter is a kinky bastard. Something that, despite his very public divorce, he's managed to keep out of the general wizarding gossip. "Unlikely. I don't hide it, but I rarely play outside of my home and Element."

"And Element has more confidentiality charms than Gringotts."

"That it does," Harry agrees. As a co-owner, he'd cast most of the confidentiality charms himself, and then immediately duplicated them at his home. He gives Kingsley a pointed look. "Makes it a safe place for everyone."

The smile Kingsley flashes is absolutely wicked. Harry's seen the same look when Kingsley's on the prowl at Element. 

Harry looks across the Ministry ballroom, easily tracking Scorpius through the crowd. The boy would look good on his knees and begging for cock. Like a fallen angel seeking redemption.

"How long?"

Turning back to Kingsley, Harry grunts, "Huh?"

Kingsley nods to a passing witch. Someone from Magical Births, if Harry's not mistaken. When they're alone again, Kingsley asks, "How long has Scorpius had his sights on you?"

"Started about month after he pushed out of Auror training," Harry murmurs, more for himself than Kingsley's benefit. Louder, he says, "Close to eight months."

"You should take the kid home with you."

Harry's eyebrows arch high, disappearing beneath his fringe. "Thought you just said Draco would kill me if I did that."

Kingsley waves a hand through the air, like he's brushing away an annoying fly. "I said he'd _want_ to. Draco Malfoy rarely gets what he wants where you're concerned. And I didn't say keep the boy. Just give him a hint of what you like, enough to…"

"Scare him off," Harry finished, clueing into Kingsley's logic. "Think it would work?"

"Something has to give, Harry," Kingsley says. "He can't keep chasing you all over the Ministry. It looks bad for the head of the Auror department to always be running away from a pretty little blond, especially since the head of the Auror department is also the Boy Who Lived."

"Fuck you," Harry says, chuckling. "Fuck you very hard, Minister."

"Ah, Harry. If I thought I could be what you need, I'd have hit my knees for you years ago."

"Kingsley!"

"Get over it, Harry. I have. Took me three nights at Element to realise your kink is not my kink. Though, the Parseltongue thing is hotter than I think it should be." 

The heat of a blush creeps over Harry's cheeks and Kingsley starts laughing.

"I can't believe there're still things that will make you blush." Kingsley releases another deep chuckle. "It's charming; unexpected but charming."

"Go away, Kingsley." Harry resists the urge to call Kingsley _pet_ , even if the man is bringing playtime into the Ministry. "I'm done with this conversation."

Pushing to a stand, Kingsley says, "Seriously, do something about the kid. I don't care what, but the cow-eyes have got to stop."

"I hear you."

"Good deal."

Harry doesn't notice when Kingsley slips away. He's too busy watching Scorpius and contemplating just how much it would take to put a stop to the boy's constant flirting.

He's also wondering which he wants more: for Scorpius to set his sights on someone else, or having that piece of pretty chained to his bed.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

"Harry."

Looking away from the paperwork littering his desk, Harry focuses on the slender form leaning against the doorjamb. The boy is relentless, Harry has to give him that much. "Scorpius. Is there something I can do for you?"

He watches as Scorpius's eyes darken to the colour of brushed pewter, as his lips open and his nostrils flare. Merlin, but the kid is fuckable.

"I don't know, Harry," Scorpius replies. "Are you planning on running off to a nonexistent meeting if I actually come into your office?"

Harry refuses to react to Scorpius's call out. He motions to the empty chair across from his desk. "Barring an unexpected emergency, my schedule is free for the afternoon."

"We could find somewhere a bit more… private to have our conversation, then."

Amusement, along with a healthy dose of appreciation, lances through Harry. Brazen doesn't even begin to describe Scorpius Malfoy on the hunt. "Mr. Malfoy…"

"Mr. Malfoy is my grandfather, my father in certain circles." Scorpius looks down then brings his gaze back to Harry, a maddening combination of innocence and sin in his eyes. "I don't ever want to be Mr. Malfoy to you, _Harry_."

Scorpius definitely isn't Mr. Malfoy in Harry's mind. He's _pet_ and _poppet_ and _boy_ , possibly even _angel_. There's no way Harry's going to call him any of those names. Not here, at least. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into." 

"Perhaps you should explain it to me then, over supper in that high-rise flat of yours."

Kingsley's words from a week before flitter through Harry's mind. It's high time he does something about Scorpius and the kid's little infatuation. Before he does something stupid and rash, something like push Scorpius to his knees and force his cock down the boy's throat. "Go sign yourself out. I'll meet you in the Atrium in fifteen minutes."

Scorpius's throaty _Yes, sir_ settles hard and fast in Harry's cock.

Harry closes his eyes and sighs. He's hoping that Scorpius chickens out before they meet up in the Atrium. Stopping after he gets that boy in his bed is not something he's looking forward to.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Despite the churning in his gut, Scorpius doesn't chicken out in the Atrium. Nor does he back down when, standing outside Harry's door, Harry says, "There're confidentiality charms in place. Anything that happens on the other side of this door stays there; the only people you can talk about it with will be those in attendance."

A smile curls the edges of Scorpius's lips. "So, just you."

"For tonight anyway," Harry says. 

Surprise cuts through Scorpius. _For tonight_ implies that might not be the case tomorrow. That's definitely something to think about. 

Pushing the door open, Harry waves a hand out in front of him. "After you. Leave your robe and shoes on the shelves by the door."

Scorpius looks the place over. It's more streamlined than he'd expected, a high-class combination of metal and glass with deep jewel-tone accents.

Motioning towards the open kitchen, Harry says, "We need to talk. If you want to leave after that? No harm, no foul."

Confusion replaces the anticipation threading through Scorpius's muscles. "I don't understand."

"No, you don't," Harry says. "But you will." As Harry opens the Muggle refrigerator, he says, "Go sit down. It's just sandwiches and a salad. I'll bring our plates over in a minute."

"I can help…"

"Go sit." Harry's voice changes, takes on a hard edge that Scorpius associates with the office. "Now."

On instinct, Scorpius goes and sits. Watching Harry make their supper, Scorpius has time for nothing but thinking. His first thought is that maybe he's pushed Harry too far, that Harry isn't as interested in him as he is Harry.

That maybe this is all leading to either a pity fuck or a one-time, will never happen again, thank you very much fuck.

Neither option is one Scorpius can get behind. He wants – _needs_ – Harry to want him. 

Under the guidance of Harry's wand, the plates, followed by two glasses of water, settle on the table. Sitting down, Harry says, "I know from your file that you are allergic to peanuts. Had I known you would be coming over, I would have banished the jar I have in the pantry before you arrived. Should you choose to stay, I'll banish it after we eat."

Scorpius blinks. No one gives his allergies that much consideration. Not even his parents. Maybe this isn't a wham-bam-thank you, sir for Harry after all. "You really don't…"

Harry holds up a hand, and Scorpius stops mid-sentence. In an extremely clipped tone, Harry says, "If you're going to be here, I don't want you to ever have to worry about your health and safety. If it means I give up my midnight habit of a hand full of salted peanuts, so be it."

"You're upset with me." Hurt echoes in Scorpius's voice. "I'm sorry if…

"No, I am _not_ upset with you," Harry says, adding dressing to his salad. "You tempt me, and you damn well know it."

"But?" Scorpius uses his fork to push the broccoli and zucchini out of the salad and to the side of the plate. He can't remember the last time he willingly ate those two vegetables. "I definitely hear a but hanging in the air."

"But you have no idea what kind of snake's nest you're stirring up." Harry waves at the small pile of vegetables with his fork. "I want a clear plate, no reason to pull the ones you don't like out."

Scorpius looks from his plate to Harry and back to his plate again. The idea that Harry is simply humouring him assaults him again. "I'm not a child to be placated."

"Who said you were a child?" Beneath the weight of Harry's intense focus, Scorpius resists the urge to fidget. "I didn't."

"Yet you're treating me like one."

Harry sets his fork to the side and licks his lips, his body visibly tensing. Scorpius steels himself for a let down or a brush off or whatever Harry's going to call it. Instead, Harry catches him by surprise. "Ever hear of Element?"

Scorpius blinks once, and then once again. The way Harry changes directions in a conversation is mental. "The private sex club in Godric's Hollow? Everyone's heard of it."

"It's not a sex club," Harry says. "Sex happens, but it's a place for people who are into a certain lifestyle."

"Leather, yeah." Scorpius says, eyes narrowing. Ideas are beginning to take a hazy shape. "Why?"

Harry points at the broccoli and zucchini again, arching a brow. Giving in, Scorpius takes one bite and then another of the vegetables. He wants answers, and if that means eating stuff he'd rather not, so be it. Nodding, Harry says, "I own fifty percent of the club."

Letting his fork dangle from his fingers, Scorpius blinks again. Okay, then. "It's not just a monetary investment either, is it?"

Harry shakes his head. "I needed somewhere safe to play and it was easier to just build something to suit than to take a chance on the club that's at the back end of Knockturn."

Scorpius sets his fork down, takes a slow sip of his water. Who the hell would ever believe Harry Potter was into kinky sex? Then he remembers Harry's claim that it isn't just about sex. "And you're telling me this now because…"

"Because I've tried ignoring you, tried pushing off your advancements, but you keep coming back, like you've got a damn boomerang hex attached to your arse." Harry licks his lips, the light stain of embarrassment creeping up his neck. "I was going to try and scare you off. Just take you to bed and…"

"Blow my mind?" Scorpius's lips twitch, amusement cascading down his spine. "Because I really thought that was your plan."

"My plans changed." Harry rolls his shoulders in a loose shrug. "No one should be introduced to the lifestyle by surprise."

"And the vegetables?" He thinks he knows the answer, but Scorpius wants the confirmation that only Harry can give him.

Harry shrugs again. "I purposefully gave you things you don't like because I wanted to see what kind of reaction I was going to get when I told you to eat them."

"Same with the not letting me help?"

"Somewhat," Harry says, another sheepish look clouding his eyes. "Part of that, though, was because I was arguing with myself and that's easier done alone. Up until five minutes ago, I'd planned on tying you down and fucking you mute. Then my brain caught up with my dick and…" 

"Uh huh." Scorpius shakes his head. The night has truly crossed over into the surreal. "How much of you at the office is a façade?"

Harry winces, like a kid with his hand caught in the Butterbeer. "I compartmentalize. There's no room for certain things at the office, just as there's no place for Auror Potter in others."

"Makes sense," Scorpius murmurs, giving Harry an odd look. Finally, when Harry actually squirms in his seat, Scorpius asks, "Not just a sex thing?"

"No, it's not. I prefer complete and total control. Food, clothes, sex… _everything_." Harry pushes his salad around his plate. When the silence draws out, he says, "Well?"

Ξ Ξ Ξ

The peanuts are banished from the pantry after supper.

Not because Harry is going to throw Scorpius down and fuck him senseless – _unfortunately_ – but because Scorpius says he's interested. That he wants to experience things, to open his horizons. Wants to try this new, weird, crazy thing that is surrendering to someone else.

Scorpius wants to belong _to_ Harry. 

Harry ignores the little voice in his head that screams at him, a screeching mash-up of Scorpius is too young and Draco is going to kill him and, really, Scorpius still has no idea what the hell he's getting himself into… Harry ignores all of that and pushes Scorpius against the wall, leveraging his weight and holding Scorpius in place.

He threads one hand through Scorpius's hair, twisting his fingers until he's gripping a hank of white blond hair tightly in his grip, and he uses the other to pop the row of buttons lining Scorpius's shirt and pushes it off of one shoulder, revealing a canvas of pale skin just begging to be marked.

Dragging a hand over Scorpius's chest, Harry teases the flat discs of Scorpius's nipples until they rise into hardened nubs. 

"Harry," Scorpius whines. " _Please._ "

"Shush, pretty," Harry murmurs, nuzzling Scorpius's neck. "You're not allowed to beg tonight."

He accompanies the command with a sharp nip of teeth against Scorpius's bare shoulder. Scorpius keens softly in response.

Harry uses the hold he has on Scorpius's hair to tilt Scorpius's head back, exposing the length of Scorpius's neck. He licks and sucks, bites and kisses until a deep red stains the skin, a single-minded endeavor meant to make Scorpius relax. When Scorpius goes lax, leaning against the wall with a boneless set to his shoulders, Harry praises, "That's it… just let it happen."

Pushing in closer, Harry relishes the feeling of Scorpius's hard dick pressing against his thigh. With a cant of his hips, Harry adds more pressure against Scorpius's cock, and then, fingers pinching and rolling one of Scorpius's nipples, Harry works at pulling another blotch of red to the surface of Scorpius's neck.

A broken moan vibrates between them.

"You want to come, don't you?" Harry undulates his hips, sets a steady pace of thrust and retreat. He's betting it takes Scorpius no longer than three minutes before he comes. "Want to rub off against me, stain the inside of your perfectly pressed trousers, make a wet, sloppy mess inside your boxers."

Scorpius stares at Harry, eyes glassy and damn near black, and whimpers.

"You're gorgeous like this." Harry can smell the arousal wafting off of Scorpius. It's fucking delicious. "If you were mine, I'd strip you down and keep you worked up for hours. Put you across my lap and finger fuck you until you were begging. And then…" Harry swallows back a groan, need pulsing through him with every beat of his heart. "Then, when you started babbling, making promises and threats, saying anything just to get my cock in your arse, I'd push you to your knees and fuck the smirk right off that pretty little mouth of yours, decorate your lips and face with my come. Scent mark you…"

"Oh, oh…" Scorpius shakes and then, drawing taut, comes. "Fuck."

Harry presses his forehead against Scorpius's. That was stupidly hot and all he wants to do is tug on his cock until he comes. It wouldn't even take long, not with Scorpius's breaths hitting fast and heavy in his ear. Except that he's already decided that the first time he comes with Scorpius, it'll be while he's getting his dick sucked. Taking a deep breath, he mutters, "I don't recall giving you permission to come, pretty."

Scorpius grunts. Harry takes it as agreement.

"Thing is, once we negotiate…" Harry pulls back. He wants to see the reaction on Scorpius's face. "You come like that without permission, I'll tan your arse."

He's not disappointed.

Scorpius's eyes sparkle and a coy grin blossoms. "Looking forward to it… sir."

Harry groans as his dick twitches. Scorpius Malfoy is going to be the death of him. Huffing, he says, "Go on, put on your robe and get out of here before I break my own damn rules."

"At work?"

"Nothing changes. Our public personas do not change." Harry busses a kiss to Scorpius's forehead. "Now, go home, boy. Do some thinking, get ready to answer some hard questions tomorrow night."

Scorpius stops at the door and, without turning around, says, "Thank you, Harry. For, uh, changing your plans tonight."

The crack of Apparition explodes in the entryway, leaving Harry murmuring, "You're welcome," to empty space.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

As his poor luck would have it, Scorpius misses the intended mark of his bedroom and Apparates directly into the Manor foyer, coming close to landing on top of his father and grandmother. His mind is still on Harry, he's damn lucky he didn't splinch himself. Scrambling back, he says, "My apologies."

Draco arches his brow and gives Scorpius a very pointed look. "You certainly were not this disheveled when you left here this morning."

Scorpius stops himself from smoothing out his robes, from reaching a hand up to finger the bite on his neck. He's done nothing wrong.

Except his father would have serious issues with him having it off with a man. _Any_ man, but most especially with Harry Potter.

"Good evening, Father, Grandmother." Scorpius sketches a bow, a necessary action that, like most of the Malfoy traditions, he feels to be ridiculous. "I hope you both are doing well this evening."

"Apparently not as well as your evening has gone," Draco drawls. "I do hope you took precautions with your concubine. The last thing we need is a bastard heir."

"Draco," Narcissa chides. "Such language is unnecessary."

Patting his mother's hand, Draco says, "I must contradict you, Mother. What is unnecessary is Scorpius tripping about looking like an ill-kept Mudblood. There are standards the Malfoy name demands he uphold; liaisons that end with obvious debauchery are most definitely unacceptable."

Scorpius curls his hands into fists, tightening his grip until the blunt edge of his nails bites into his palm. He needs the pain to ground him, to keep him from speaking out against his father. It's too soon. He needs to know that Harry, that this thing they're going to explore, will be worth the disowning it will bring about. Swallowing, Scorpius says, "Trust me, Father. There will be no unplanned heirs from my earlier activities. Now, if you will excuse me, I will see you both at breakfast."

He gives them another hasty bow and escapes, moving up the staircase as fast as propriety will allow. He's got a pocket full of parchments to read before tomorrow night. There's no way spending time making nice with his father can top that.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Harry sighs as a group of Aurors exit the lift – Scorpius included. Between Scorpius's usual flirting and the bite mark standing out vividly against his pale skin, Harry _needed_ Scorpius to be gone. Behind him Kingsley clears his throat. "Got time for a fast chat in my office?"

"Yeah, of course," Harry replies. "Ministry business?"

"Not even a hint of it," Kingsley says. 

Harry snorts softly. "Are you getting in my personal life, Kingsley?"

"Just trying to find out if my head Auror is going to need a protective detail due to death threats. From the looks of it, the answer is a resounding yes," Kingsley returns. "Thought the plan was to scare him off, Harry."

Harry keeps his mouth shut until Kingsley's office door closes behind them. "I took him home with the full intent of shaking him off, but then… then I started thinking instead of reacting." Harry drags a hand through his hair. "It would make me an utter bastard, not to mention going against _everything_ the lifestyle is, if I had thrown him in the deep end without talking it out first."

Kingsley starts to shake his head, then, stopping, he frowns. "I get it. I just don't understand how talking to him about the lifestyle ends with him wearing a very noticeable claim this morning."

"He wants to try," Harry replies, ignoring the way his dick twitches at the mere mention of the marks – _his_ marks – on Scorpius's neck.

"And you obviously agreed."

"Seriously? You have seen him, haven't you? The boy is sin personified." Harry would dare any of the Doms in Element to walk away from Scorpius. Fuck, he'd dare Kingsley to walk away, sub or not. "And, if his flirting is anything to go by, he's absolutely shameless."

And, honestly, the shameless thing? Total bonus as far as Harry is concerned.

"This has the potential to be a disaster," Kingsley says.

Harry knows they're not breaking any of the Ministry rules about relationships between coworkers. Still, rather defensively, he says, "I'm not his direct supervisor."

"No, you're not." Kingsley gives Harry a knowing look. "You are, however, extremely demanding and more possessive than any one person has a right to be. Want to tell me how that's going to work when he gets sent out into the field, or worse, sent on an undercover assignment?"

"Work is separate," Harry mumbles. He doesn't believe it himself, so there's no way Kingsley's going to. "We'll keep it that way."

Kingsley barks out a laugh. "Right. I'll just bring in the popcorn and Butterbeer, yeah? It's sure to be a good show."

The tips of Harry's ears burn hot. Because, yeah, if he's at all honest he knows that keeping it separate is not going to work. "If it goes anywhere, we'll figure it out."

"Uh huh," Kingsley says, chuckling. "Just do me a favor. Until you're sure about him, keep him away from Element."

Harry arches a brow. "Okay. Mind telling me why?"

"He might not be able to talk about it because of the confidentiality charms, but that isn't going to keep him from freaking out when he sees the Minister for Magic begging like a Knockturn whore."

Nodding, Harry says, "Makes sense. And if the time comes, I'll give you a heads up and him a stern talking to before we arrive."

Harry fidgets as silence descends upon them. He's caught in the odd position of not knowing if he's an employee talking to his boss, or if they've moved into friends catching up, or, even weirder, if they hit a Dom/sub wall at work. 

Kingsley answers the unasked question when he says, "Good luck, sir. We all want you happy and settled, if he's it… well, just, good luck."

"Thank you." Harry steps towards the door. "I appreciate it, boy."

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Harry starts checking his watch a half-hour before quitting time. After what has to be the hundredth time he looks at his watch – and, how the hell could only seventeen minutes have passed? – Harry closes the file he's been staring at for the better part of an hour and starts packing up. He's thinking Kingsley had the right of it, being worried about their job performance. Because right now, Harry doubts even Voldemort reappearing would be enough to make him stop thinking with his dick. Stepping into the bullpen, he says, "Malfoy."

Scorpius looks up and says, "Sir?"

"Six o'clock, not a minute different in either direction." That gives him close to forty-five minutes to get himself under control before he's expected to have an intelligent conversation about wants and needs, expectations and possibilities. 

Grinning, Scorpius nods. "Six, sir."

Tonight, Harry promises himself silently. Tonight, after dinner and some serious talking, he's taking that boy down and keeping him there 'til late Sunday night.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

With all of the ingredients for a vegetable stir-fry lining the counter, Harry wipes his hands on a towel and cuts a fast glance at Scorpius. "If we come to terms, you'll be cooking with me most nights."

"Not for you?"

Harry detects a measure of disappointment in Scorpius's tone. It's… enlightening. More so than the question itself. "Not when we're putting in full days at the office."

"Weekends…"

"Cooking, along with a few other chores would definitely be your responsibility on the weekends." Harry doesn't mention that the deeper this thing between them gets, the more of the household chores Scorpius will pick up. It's what will satisfy him the most; Scorpius too, if he's reading the boy right. And he'll follow through, keep the proper roles that will give them both the most out of their relationship. No matter how much he wants to keep Scorpius tied to the bed and taking his cock. Pushing that thought aside before it can take root and overrun the best of his intentions, Harry says, "Did you read through the stuff I gave you?"

Stuff being the stack of parchments with things like a BDSM checklist and a couple of sample contracts. They're things Harry copped from his foray into the Muggle scene, revised for, generally, the wizarding world, and specifically, Harry's wants and needs and interests.

A faint hint of pink steals over Scorpius's cheeks. "Uh, yes."

Heating up the oil, Harry grins. It's the first time he's heard Scorpius less than absolutely sure of himself. "And?"

"And… there's a lot of shit on there I don't even understand." In his periphery, Harry sees Scorpius drag a finger through the condensation on his glass. "Some that I can't even imagine doing."

"Understandable." Harry adds peppers and onions to the wok, their scent filling the air as they hit the hot oil. He concentrates on the stir-fry, giving Scorpius the opportunity to open up on his own.

His patience pays off. Just before he reaches the final step – adding the bok choy to the wok – Scorpius says, "But there's a lot on there that intrigues me. That I want to try." When Harry steps over to the table with two plates in his hand, Scorpius adds, "With you."

"I like the sound of that," Harry admits. "But, you need to understand, both of us will have hard limits, things we just won't do, and we'll have needs, things that, if they aren't there, are just as much deal breakers as the hard limits. The chemistry between us is huge, but if those things don't mesh well…"

"Then neither of us will be satisfied."

"Exactly," Harry says. Nudging the silverware beside Scorpius's plate, Harry says, "Eat up before it gets cold. We can talk between bites."

Minutes tick off where the only sound is the clink of their forks against the ceramic plates. Seemingly out of nowhere, Scorpius says, "Humiliation."

Harry arches a brow.

"It is a family sport at the Manor." Bitterness oozes from each word.

"Okay." Sounds like humiliation is going to be a complete no go. Which kind of sucks. Harry has always been of the opinion that a bit of well-played verbal humiliation does nothing but ratchet up the heat of a scene.

Scorpius looks up. "I don't how I'd react to it."

"Hard limit?"

After another sip of his water, Scorpius gives a slow shake of his head. "Not here, and not if you can ease me into, talk about it before we start. Probably after, too. Just not… I don't want anyone else to see it. Not until I can experience it for myself, know what I'm getting into."

The knot that's been riding in Harry's gut since the night before loosens. The possibility that Scorpius had jumped in without thought, that he saw this as some kind of game that didn't require vulnerability and investment from both of them, had weighed on Harry's mind most of the day. However, it sounds as if the decision to try this out is not something that Scorpius stepped into lightly. "I'd never try anything new in front of others."

"Even if…" Scorpius huffs out a fast breath. "You said complete control, and the contract I read was very detailed. Even in the beginning, it's a fine line you're dancing between submissive and slave. One that I _want_ to dance with you. One that I thought about more than half the night and all day long. I was useless at work today."

"Scorpius," Harry says. "You don't know what…"

Scorpius holds up a hand and Harry swallows down the rest of his comment. "I say all of that because, when we tip over into the realm of complete control, into slave instead of submissive –" Scorpius pulls one shoulder into a shrug "– that kind of gives you the right of wherever, whenever, however."

Harry drags a hand through his hair. "Merlin, boy. I didn't expect this conversation until much later into this."

"Smartest wizard of my generation," Scorpius murmurs. "I've always been ahead of the curve."

Smiling, Harry shakes his head. "Not a thing wrong with your ego, huh? Okay, yes, there are times I play in public, mostly at Element. And yes, I would like to take you there. Eventually. However, when we do end up at Element, I _will not_ introduce you to anything new. Well, nothing outside of exhibitionism." He grins when Scorpius chuckles. "Seriously, though. It's partly because this is new to you. You're learning, and no matter how far ahead of the curve you are… the distance between dating and submissive and slave is grand. We'll go at a pace that _I_ deem acceptable and appropriate."

Harry watches as rebellion rears up in Scorpius's eyes. Just as quickly, he sees it settle into understanding with a bit of appreciation. "You said partly. What's the other part?"

Unrepentantly, Harry says, "I am a possessive bastard. I refuse to give anyone else the joy of watching you in the throes of a new experience. Your begging and pleading, your screams and your tears? All of your pleasure? That's mine. It, like you, belongs to me."

Scorpius sucks in a fast breath. "Oh. _Yes,_ yours."

A hot line of _yes, yes, now_ burns down Harry's spine. He takes one deep breath, and then another and another. When he has the urge to throw Scorpius down on the table and fuck him blind under a semblance of control, he says, "How much have you experienced?"

"Sir?"

"Bondage, pain… Your experience, boy." Harry's voice is thick and raspy, heavy with arousal. He needs answers to the basics; it's the easiest way to get the conversation back on track for the night. Otherwise, he's going to strip Scorpius bare and push him to his knees. Soon.

"Playful things." Scorpius's voice is deeper, clouded with what Harry recognizes as need. "Fuzzy handcuffs and a few light slaps on the arse, biting and scratching."

Fuzzy handcuffs. Harry nearly snorts. He's sure they have a place in the world, it's just not anywhere near his kit. "Your previous partners, male or female?"

"Mostly male," Scorpius says. "Only two women, one didn't move beyond groping."

"Anal sex?" It's blunt, Harry knows that. Scorpius needs to get used to him being blunt.

"One former lover, more than a year ago."

"Is it a hard limit?" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "It's a trust limit."

"Good boy," Harry says, smiling when Scorpius preens. The boy – soon to be _his_ boy, Harry reminds himself – wears all of his emotions on his sleeve. It's one of the many things that separate Scorpius from the rest of the Malfoy clan. "Never give that to someone you don't trust."

"I trust you," Scorpius says. "I trust you more than I've trusted any of the people in my past."

"Boy…"

Harry's on the verge of taking Scorpius to task when the flirtatious little brat shatters his resolve by whispering, "Please. I know we have to talk and all of that, but, really… _please._ "

"Brazen lil' pup," Harry mutters. Louder, he says, "Minor bondage, blow jobs, possibility of rimming and fingering, possibility of an over the knee spanking." Because, Merlin, fuck, Harry wants Scorpius over his lap with his pale, naked arse high. "No anal sex until we talk more." 

Scorpius's eyes go wide. "Wow… that's direct."

"This isn't the time to skirt around issues, Scorpius." Plus Harry loves the way Scorpius looks when he's caught between needy arousal and surprise. "Do you want to finish our conversation tonight instead?"

"Huh, uh… no! Please." Scorpius shakes his head. "Tomorrow is soon enough, yes?"

"Oh, yes. Tomorrow, or Sunday, will do just fine." Harry finally gives in and smirks. "Safeword?"

"Hooch," Scorpius says immediately. 

"That'll definitely make me stop short," Harry says. "Gave it thought, huh?"

A blush floods Scorpius's cheeks. "Maybe?"

"It's a good thing, boy," Harry says. "Safeword is Hooch. It stops everything for the night. If you need to slow things down because it's too intense, you catch a cramp, whatever, say yellow. Repeat it back to me."

"Hooch stops it all, yellow slows it down." Scorpius looks down at his hands, and then, after he flexes them and curls them back into a fist, says, "No way to change your mind about the sex?"

Harry wants to say yes, wants to tell Scorpius to strip down and then fuck him right there over the table filling his tiny breakfast nook. Except, the first time he fucks Scorpius, he wants the boy tied down and his ass throbbing bright with the echo of a spanking. "Not tonight, Scorpius."

"Yeah, figured you'd say that." He gives Harry an impish grin. "Can't blame a guy for trying, right?"

"Don't ever not ask for what you want," Harry says, hoping Scorpius hears how serious he is about it. "I won't always say yes, but I do always want to know what you're thinking about."

"Yes, sir," Scorpius says, giving a fast nod of his head.

Waving his wand, Harry sends the dishes to the Muggle dishwasher. Looking back at Scorpius, he says, "Strip for me, pretty."

Standing up, Scorpius whispers a spell. His clothes melt off of his body and reappear, folded neatly, in the chair he'd just been in.

Harry cants his head to the side, focusing on the shimmer of magic flickering over the ridge of Scorpius's collarbone. "Drop the glamour. There is nothing about you that I won't make mine."

Scorpius brushes his fingers over his skin, whispering, "Finite."

The black line of the Scorpius constellation, surrounded by a faint grey outline of a scorpion, instantly becomes visible.

There's no hint of the magic Harry is accustomed to sensing in tattoos. "Muggle?"

Scorpius nods. "Got it the day I turned eighteen. Father approved of the tattoo."

Harry brushes his fingers over the crisp lines. "Doubt that extended to the Muggle part of it."

"No, he was not as magnanimous about the lack of magic," Scorpius says, smirking. "I only hide it because of department regulations."

"Keep the glamour off when you're here."

"Yes, sir," Scorpius replies.

"Come on, then," Harry says, holding out a hand for Scorpius. "It's time for you to see the rest of my home."

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Harry keeps an eye on Scorpius as they walk from room to room. There's no sign of embarrassment, nothing to suggest he's uncomfortable walking around in the buff. It's a good thing, seeing as Harry plans to keep him that way often. Once they're in the bedroom, Harry directs Scorpius towards a large wing-backed chair. "Stand facing the chair, leave enough room for me to circle around you."

Scorpius is drawn as tight as a bowstring, every muscle taut and bulging. Anticipation and excitement, Harry assumes. He rules out fear only because of the state of Scorpius's cock, jutting hard and erect with the foreskin pulling tight and back, giving Harry just a hint of the glans. Running a hand down Scorpius's spine, he says, "Relax, boy."

He waits until Scorpius takes a deep breath, watching as a minute bit of tension bleeds out of Scorpius's shoulders. After Scorpius takes a second and then a third deep breath, Harry murmurs, "Well done."

Beneath his hand, tight against the curve of Scorpius's back, Harry feels a shudder work through the muscles. "Cold?"

"No, sir," Scorpius replies, another small tremor visibly bunching and releasing along his spine.

"Talk to me, boy," Harry growls. Damn if he's going to play twenty questions. Not right now.

"I don't know what to do, how to act." Scorpius glances over his shoulder, uncertainty in his eyes. "I don't how to be what you want."

So much for that vaunted learning curve, Harry thinks. "Of course you don't. This is all new to you."

"That doesn't upset you?"

"No," Harry replies. "I'm so far from upset over the fact that this is new for you, that this is something that you have not shared with someone else…" Harry nuzzles the skin just behind Scorpius's ear. "I can't even begin to put a name on what I am. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Scorpius says. "So much."

"Then just relax." Harry slides an arm around Scorpius's waist, splaying a hand wide against Scorpius's abdomen, and nips one of the bite marks from the night before. "There'll come a time when we'll be able to read each other without thought. Until then, let me get us there."

Scorpius goes lax against Harry, a low, throaty moan spilling out.

"You're a natural." Harry mouths the words into Scorpius's skin. Another bussing kiss, and, keeping an arm around Scorpius's waist, he pulls back. "This chair, boy. It's where I'm going pull you over my lap and spank you, marking your bare arse with my hand. It's where I'll inspect you every Friday, making you lean forward into the chair, bracing yourself against the arms of the chair while I touch every fucking inch of you. It's where you'll lean over the back and present your arse to me for discipline."

Harry grins when Scorpius groans, pitiful and needy and so damned wanton.

"It's where I'll sit down and you'll go to your knees in front of me, where you'll suck my cock and beg for me to let you get off."

"Oh, fuck, yes," Scorpius whimpers. 

"That what you want?" Denims uncomfortably tight, Harry rolls his hips forward, pressing the length of his cock against Scorpius's arse. "Want to suck my cock, let me use that pretty little mouth until I come?"

" _Please._ "

"Turn around and kneel, boy."

He'd been right. Scorpius Malfoy is gorgeous on his knees. Hair mussed and a wild look in his eyes, lips shiny with spit. Instead of the fallen angel he'd imagined, the look reminds Harry of an incubus. The perfect image of a demon radiating irresistible wantonness.

A demon that Harry wants to tame, and to train. To keep him always. The ferocity of his need surprises him.

But it doesn't make him back off. If anything it spurs him forward. Following his gut has always seen him land on his feet.

Harry palms his cock, uses his thumb to pop the button and the drop the zip on his denims. As he pushes his jeans and boxers down, his cock throbs in time with his heartbeat, the tip moist, leaving a sticky trail of precome as it brushes against his hand. 

Taking a deep breath, he wills his jerky movements – the tangible evidence of want and need and _fucking_ want – into something smoother, more fluid. It'll do neither of them any good for him to shoot off at the first touch.

"Can you take it?" Harry asks, tangling his fingers in Scorpius's hair and jerking Scorpius's head back. He rubs the head of his cock over Scorpius's lips, biting back a groan as a burst of electricity zips along his spine. "Can you take me pushing my cock down your throat… cutting off your air as I fuck your face?"

Later on, after they've been together and he knows what his boy can take, Harry won't even ask. He'll just push Scorpius to his knees and take and take and damn well _take_.

Today, however, he's holding his breath, hoping against hope that Scorpius says _yes, fuck my face_. The addition of a _please, sir_ would possibly, maybe, probably make Harry cream his boxers.

Scorpius's eyes flutter shut and, on a near breathy sigh, he says, "Yes, please."

Canting his hips forward, Harry growls low in his throat as his cock slips between Scorpius's lips. He curls his fingers tighter in Scorpius's hair, holding his boy in place, and slowly thrusts forward, pushing until he's balls deep and he's encased in the overwhelming feeling of Scorpius's throat swallowing around the head of his dick.

The moist heat of Scorpius's mouth curls Harry's toes. The vibration of Scorpius's moan, the boy's slight flailing – a small measure of fear, Harry thinks – rocks into Harry's balls, skitters rapid-fire fast over his skin and erupts in a million goosebumps over his chest and arms.

It's everything he's imagined. 

Scorpius's hands clutch at Harry's thigh, blunt nails scrapping over skin and denim, and, he blinks his eyes, tears welling and spilling over sooty lashes.

"Easy," Harry murmurs, easing his cock out of Scorpius's mouth, then, with another slow tilt of his hips, pushing in again. "You're here for my pleasure, boy. Let me take it."

Maintaining the slow cadence, the steady rhythm of thrust and retreat, Harry watches as the emotions play across Scorpius's face – the fear morphing into acceptance, the hard glint of rebellion giving way to the glassy-eyed mark of submission. And then the straight line of Scorpius's shoulders relaxes, settles into something malleable, and he starts following the sway Harry's movements, seemingly without thought.

"That's it, pretty," Harry praises, scratching lightly over Scorpius's scalp. "Just like that."

His orgasm crashes over him and Harry fights between the instinct to bury himself deeper in Scorpius's throat, choking off Scorpius's air and flooding Scorpius's mouth with spunk, and the need to pull out and decorate Scorpius's face, stripes of come mixing with the tears, branding Scorpius with an invisible stain of ownership. 

The desire to see Scorpius's face streaked with come wins out. Harry pulls back and, his free hand wrapping around his cock, he strokes himself through a knee-buckling orgasm.

Panting, Harry releases his hold on Scorpius's hair and, dragging his fingers over Scorpius's jaw and through the longest line of jizz, grunts, "Mine. You're mine, boy."

"Yours," Scorpius whimpers, his hands inching closer and closer to his erect cock.

"Don't touch that," Harry warns gently. He cups Scorpius's jaw, brushing his thumb over Scorpius's bottom lip. "I like the look of you aching for me."

Scorpius curls his hands into tight fists and gasps, "Yes… yes, sir."

"Good boy," Harry murmurs, jacking his denims back over his hips, drawing the zip closed and leaving the button undone. He cants his head to the side and stares at Scorpius. Sliding a foot forward, nudges Scorpius's cock. "Want help with that?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Scorpius says, "I can hold it."

Harry arches a brow. That sounded remarkably close to a dare. One that Harry is going to enjoy taking on. "When it gets to be too much, ask for help. Trust me, your arse will appreciate you giving up your pride and asking more than it will you coming before I'm ready for you to."

Shaking, Scorpius nods. "Will do, sir."

Or he'll hurt himself trying, Harry thinks. Malfoy men have never been known for using common sense. It'll be fun watching it play out. Grinning, he says, "On the bed with you, boy. Now that the edge has been taken off, I'm in the mood to play."

He can't wait to live up to Scorpius's look of horrified anticipation.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Harry keeps his clothes on until the tight fit through the crotch becomes uncomfortable. Mainly because it puts Scorpius in the proper headspace better than any words can.

Being naked takes on an entirely different connotation when you're the only one in the room without the cover of clothing. It's a fact Harry learned quickly the few times he's submitted to a Dom and a tactic he uses frequently with subs of his own.

It doesn't hurt that the picture Scorpius makes, all pale skin and icy eyes, cuffed at his wrists and chained against sapphire blue sheets, is enough to fuel more than one jerk off session in Harry's future.

Just as Harry shimmies out of his denims, Scorpius finally breaks. Fucking up against the air, he says, "Oh, fuck. I _need…_ Harry! Sir!"

Pointing at Scorpius's dick, Harry chants a short string of Parseltongue. The spell, better than any Muggle cockring, settles quickly. "Better?"

"Yes," Scorpius sighs. "Thank you."

"Same as the cuffs, it'll release if you say your safeword." It's powerful magic, attaching both toys and spells to another person's magical signature, a very personal version of _Finite_. Magic that Harry is more than capable of. Stretching out beside Scorpius, pressing the length of their naked bodies together for the first time, Harry murmurs, "Well done, pretty. Always ask for what you need."

Scorpius lolls his head towards Harry. "Yeah?"

Harry smiles. Mind quiet and body riding a high is a good place for his boy to be. "Yeah."

"Touch me, please?"

"As soon as I attach the thigh cuffs," Harry replies, scratching a hand over Scorpius's thigh, watching as trails of pink bloom into life. "Yeah, after I chain you down, touching you is all I'll be doing for the rest of the night."

Scorpius's legs fall open and, when Harry slips a wide strip of leather around Scorpius's left thigh, a moan spills out.

"Oh, yeah…" Harry murmurs, buckling the thigh cuff into place."One more to go, precious boy. Then we tighten 'em down, widen the spread of your legs. Give me easy access to what's mine."

As Harry puts action to words and tightens the chains, another throaty noise tumbles out of Scorpius. A tense and release of muscles follows, and then, sighing, Scorpius goes lax. Everything Scorpius is feeling is oozing off of him, easy for Harry to see. Accepting. Wanting. _Needing_.

Harry's cock, hard and moist at the tip, jerks in response. Pretty displays have always been his Achilles' heel. Voice rough, his own need bleeding through the words, Harry asks, "Too tight?"

"No…" With a fast sweep of his tongue, Scorpius licks his lips. "No, sir." 

"Sure?" Harry watches Scorpius's face, searches for the slightest hint of discomfort. "You're going to be locked down for a while."

"I'm sure," Scorpius replies. 

Holding out a hand, Harry casts a silent _Accio_ , calling one of his favorite oils to him. He pushes against the stopper and the scent of cloves and vanilla war for dominance in the room. "You said more than a year ago for full-on sex, but how long since you've been penetrated?"

A blush bursts to life over Scorpius's cheeks. "Last night, after… after I read that list, the checklist."

"With?" When Scorpius cuts a glance to the side, Harry growls, "Tell me, boy. What'd you put in my hole?"

"My fingers and, um," the colour on Scorpius's cheeks darkens, "a small Muggle dildo."

Scorpius's obvious discomfort makes Harry want the entire story. Dribbling oil over Scorpius's cock and balls, he watches as it trails down the cleft of Scorpius's arse, slicking fast over Scorpius's hole and then staining the sheet beneath them a darker blue. He massages Scorpius's entrance, splitting his gaze between watching Scorpius's face – so damn expressive, morphing between need and want and embarrassment – and staring at Scorpius's arse, watching the rim of Scorpius's hole as he presses his finger in – only to the first knuckle, teasing himself as much as he's teasing Scorpius – and then pulls it out again. "While you were wanking?"

"Yes," Scorpius says, muscles twitching. Harry's guessing he's trying to rock his hips, trying to pull the intrusion in his arse deeper.

 _That_ won't happen until Harry's damn well ready for it to.

"What were you thinking about?" 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Scorpius drops his head back and groans. Sucking in a deep breath, he says, "You."

The immediate answer deserves a reward. Quickly, Harry thrusts his finger deep into Scorpius's arse, then flashes a sly smile when Scorpius shouts, "Merlin, fuck, yes!"

Licking a stripe over Scorpius's knee, Harry asks, "More?"

"Please."

"Tell you what," Harry stops talking, takes the time to fuck Scorpius with his finger… one thrust, two and then three. "You give me what I want and I'll return the favour."

"Sir?"

Harry damn near bursts out laughing. The high-pitched, _strained_ tone is something he never expected to hear from Scorpius. "I want the fantasy you wank to, you want my fingers in your arse. Quid pro quo." Harry gives another slow push/pull of his finger. "So, come on, boy… tell me a story."

Ξ Ξ Ξ

The finger in his arse is a distraction, a teasing promise of more. It's nowhere near enough to get him off, especially the way Harry is avoiding his prostate. Avoiding it so completely that it has to be intentional. Closing his eyes, he clears his throat and swipes his tongue over his lips. "A story?"

Inside him, the finger crooks, but Harry says nothing aloud.

"Yeah, okay," Scorpius says, trying to push away the need building deep in his balls. A story… what the fuck? He's never done anything so… creative. He's always been more by the book, logic and facts. It's why being sorted into Ravenclaw hadn't been that much of a shock. And now Harry wanted him to tell a fucking story. "I was so hard. The checklist, just reading it, thinking about you doing some of those things to me… I _needed_ , needed you to be there, to touch me, to teach me."

Lips press against Scorpius's knee. "Open your eyes, pretty boy."

Blinking his eyes open, caught in the vortex of Harry's focus, Scorpius suddenly finds the strength to push his embarrassment to the side and let the words spill out. "I turned out all of the lights, the only light came from the embers in the fireplace."

A fleeting touch dances feather-light over his prostate. Scorpius feels it all the way to his toes. Harry busses another kiss to Scorpius's knee. "And what happened in the shadows of the firelight?"

"I imagined that I was here. You left a message for me to come here and…" Scorpius stops on a gasp. 

The barely noticeable single finger in Scorpius's arse unexpectedly becomes the stretch of two fingers. They pump in and out, twisting deep inside, grazing his prostate with every push inward. His cock twitches and his nipples pebble into hard nubs. He closes his eyes tight and, when he blinks his eyes open and sees Harry watching him – intent and demanding – a soft mewling sigh bubbles up from his throat.

Canting his head to the side, voice deep and raspy, barely more than a hushed whisper, Harry says, "And it was dark?" 

"Almost. There was a single candle in the entryway, and you were leaning against the wall. Wearing a tight t-shirt and even tighter denims. But you were barefoot. It was…" The heat of a blush burns along his ears, and, swallowing once, Scorpius forces himself to say, "I wanted to go to my knees and kiss your feet."

Harry's fingers curl and rub hard over Scorpius's prostate. Scorpius's body vibrates and sweat breaks across his chest, glistening in the low light filling the room. Soft whimpers tumble out, words overlapping as he begs Harry to release the spell, to stop the ache in his balls, to please, _fucking please_ , just let him come. Then, voice scratchy and raw, Scorpius adds, "If it is your will."

"That's right, pretty. My will," Harry murmurs. Then, as the assault on Scorpius's arse slows, he asks, "Did you? Did you go to your knees and worship my feet?"

Scorpius tenses his arse, clenching his muscles around the thickness of Harry's two fingers. It helps ground him, to take his mind off of his dick. Relaxing again, he shakes his head. "No, sir. There wasn't enough time."

"Not enough time?" One of Harry's eyebrows wings high, disappearing beneath his fringe. His look is one of complete disbelief, like there's no way he'd ever think about stopping Scorpius from kissing his bare feet. Scorpius files that information away to dissect later. 

"I had just enough time to see you. One good look, and then you banished my clothes without even a whispered word and pushed me up against the wall." The make believe scene replays in Scorpius's mind. It'd been hot, feeling that sudden loss of control, being stripped bare and pushed against the wall. "There were hooks and cuffs and lengths of rope and before I could say anything, I was blindfolded and tied down, face tight against the wall and my arse pushing out into your hands."

His heart had been racing, caught between terrified, so afraid of the unknown, and exhilarated, so excited and turned on and aroused. He didn't understand the mash-up, how he could feel such opposite emotions over the same situation. 

That same maelstrom of _feelings_ is tumbling through him now. And he still can't comprehend it, still can't find the justification for such a contradiction.

"I didn't know what was going on, what you were planning to do. I just knew I wanted it. Wanted whatever you were going to give me." Scorpius stops, weighing his next declaration before he lets it fall into existence. "I still want whatever you want to give me, want to be everything you need."

"Oh, pretty poppet," Harry says. Then he leans forward, licks the head of Scorpius's cock, and, after he ends the spell holding Scorpius's release at bay, he says, "At your leisure, Scorpius."

Harry pushes another finger into Scorpius's arse and simultaneously swallows around Scorpius's cock. Scorpius stops trying to decipher the swirling tornado of feelings. Giving himself over to it all, he murmurs, _yes_ and _more_ and _please, Merlin, fuck, please_.

And then Harry hums and Scorpius reaches sensation overload and, with a scream filling the air, he comes so hard the world greys out.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Harry releases the chains holding Scorpius in place. After a moment's thought, he leaves the cuffs in place. The bands of black at his boy's wrists and thighs are appealing and arousing. Not that he needs any help in the arousal department. His cock is showing interest, not completely hard but making one hell of an effort, as if the earlier blow job had been hours ago instead of merely minutes, barely over a half-hour.

He trails a finger over Scorpius's cheek. "Grabbing a warm washcloth, pretty. You just lay here and rest."

Scorpius nods, slow and lazy. His eyes are blown and glassy, a small band of dark grey circling the fathomless black.

Harry pushes off of the bed and, with a shake of his head, walks to the attached bath. Scorpius is _gone_ , dancing on the edge of the oblivion that is subspace. That his boy fell so hard, so damned fast… it makes Harry want more. More scenes. More intensity. More commitment. 

A contract and a collar. A slave. 

Merlin, fuck and damn. Harry looks into the mirror and cants his head to the side. He's never wanted a slave.

Not true, he reminds himself. He's never wanted the responsibility that comes with having a slave.

Wringing out the cloth, he steps back into the bedroom and, staring at Scorpius on the bed, he owns up to the fact that a slave is exactly what he wants. That he wants _this_ man to be his slave.

That's something he's going to have to work up to. He doubts that, no matter what Scorpius thinks he feels, the boy is anywhere near ready to hear the words _slave_ and _Master_ applied to their… relationship. And, wow, okay, yes. Their relationship.

Another thing Harry hasn't wanted the responsibility of.

Leave it to a Malfoy to set Harry's entire worldview on its head.

Sitting down on the side of the bed, Harry strokes the warm, damp cloth over Scorpius's abdomen and groin, dragging it through Scorpius's blond pubes. He says the first thing that comes to mind. "I want to shave you."

"They make potions…"

"No," Harry says, banishing the washcloth back to the bathroom. He scratches through the tangle of pubes, smirking when Scorpius shudders. "I want you to open yourself up and hold the position, let me take a straight razor and shave you bare. I want you to do it without magic and without bindings simply because you trust me."

Just like enemas, Harry thinks. Shaving and enemas they'll be doing the Muggle way. 

Because that is how he wants it. 

"Come on, boy," Harry says, pulling the duvet over them. "Time for bed. Tomorrow, after breakfast, we really have some talking to do."

"Negotiating."

Harry isn't sure if it's a statement or a question. Stroking a hand down Scorpius's back, he says, "Exactly that."

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Close to the end of their negotiations, Harry realises that Scorpius has matched him point-for-point. It thrills him that Scorpius is standing up for what he wants and needs. It had been a concern, especially after how fast Scorpius dropped into an acquiescent state last night.

"Sleeping over," Scorpius says. "For now, the only work night I stay here should be Sunday."

Harry arches a brow. He'd rather have Scorpius here every night, but he's curious about Scorpius's thought process. "Why Sunday?"

"You said nothing changes at work –" Harry nods, conceding the point "– and I understand why. For that to happen, I'm going have to have time in my own space. At least, in the beginning, I'm going to need time in my own space. Sunday, though, is different. I'm assuming, so please, correct me here if I'm heading in the wrong direction, but I'm assuming the weekends will be..." Scorpius sighs and drags a hand through his hair, sending the long blond strands into complete disarray. "Earlier, it wasn't some huge scene or anything, right?"

"It was intense for you," Harry's answers carefully. It was a simple scene, yes. But it was also Scorpius's first scene. That alone made it emotional.

Scorpius snorts. "Don't dance, please."

Harry smiles. Scorpius isn't giving him an inch. "First scenes are always intense."

"And because I'm new there'll be a lot of first scenes." The tips of Scorpius's ears turn pink. Harry can't wait to see where this is going. "And once I'm not new, there'll be deeper scenes, yes?" 

There's nothing else to say to that except, "Yes." 

"Well, I can't imagine being sent away right now."

"No one is…"

Scorpius holds up a hand and Harry fights against the denial souring his tongue. "I know you're not. And that's what I'm trying to say. I don't want to be away from you afterwards. I'm…everything is loose and pliant and I just _need_ to be here, with you."

"And here is where you'll stay," Harry replies. "I'll leave the sleepover schedule up to you. I do get what you're saying about work. Along those same lines, I think there should be at least one day a week where you spend time reflecting on what all we're doing. Since the longer, more intricate stuff will happen on the weekend, I'd suggest Monday or Tuesday night being set aside for you to review and think."

"At the Manor?"

The Manor. Scorpius never calls it _home_. It's something they're going to have to talk about. If Scorpius doesn't feel comfortable enough to call Malfoy Manor home, then Harry will always have to make sure Scorpius is in the right frame of mind before he Apparates away. Filing that under later conversations, Harry answers Scorpius's question. "Or here. I have more than enough room."

He has three empty rooms, to be exact. Rooms that haven't been used in more than five, almost six years. Not since the children reached the age of majority and, rather bluntly, told Harry they'd rather not sleep under his roof. Scorpius can have his choice of the three rooms. "We can redo one of the extra bedrooms. Change it to a quiet space, somewhere we can talk and think, no roles, no recriminations." 

"Okay," Scorpius says. "We'll set Monday aside for that."

Harry glances at the contract parchment, making sure the self-updating enchantment is still working. Last thing he wants is to lose everything they've discussed.

"Punishment and discipline," Harry says. This is where he expects Scorpius to balk. Fantasizing about handcuffs and kinky sex is one thing, imagining yourself willingly baring your arse for a spanking is completely different. 

"There's a difference?"

"Discipline is a training tool, used to remind you to control your behaviour. A morning spanking to keep your attention focused." Slowly the wariness in Scorpius's eyes gives way to the boy's natural curiosity. That curiosity is part of what makes Scorpius so shameless. It's something that Harry wants to foster and nourish, something that, in the long haul, will be a benefit to them both. "That makes punishment…"

Scorpius picks up the sentence, just as Harry had hoped. "The correction to a bad behaviour and broken rules."

"Yes. Punishment is a penalty, of sorts. Prior to any punishment we would discuss the actions that got you in that particular position. It won't always be a strap to your arse, sometimes it's lines or not being able to sleep in the bed with me. All things designed to make you want to make a different choice the next time an opportunity to break the rules arises." Harry finds a specific piece of parchment and pushes it towards Scorpius. Now that they've worked out the kinks and the specific expectations, it's time for the general, household rules. "And, speaking of rules, these are the general rules that I prefer."

The list is a mix; some innocuous – be respectful at all times, maintain open and honest communications – and others of a sexual bent – naked at all times in the penthouse, always lubed and plugged, full body inspection every Friday. Like their relationship, not all of the rules hinge on pleasing one another in bed.

Scorpius traces one of the rules with his finger. Without looking up, he asks, "If there is company?"

"There will be times I want you on display, other times I won't. It depends on who the company is." Harry stops talking and waits until Scorpius looks up. "You have to trust me in all things, and bend to my will even when it makes you uncomfortable."

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Nude. Nude in front of others. Scorpius swallows once, then once again. He hasn't been nude in front of anyone outside of his healer and his lovers since he was in nappies. "I’ll need help with that. At the Manor… I was raised to always present myself in proper attire."

"I'll always be there to help you. This isn't a game, Scorpius. It isn't something we're doing to amuse ourselves on Friday nights. It isn't good for either of us if I simply set out to make you fail." Harry's lips quirk into a wicked grin. "And, if it helps, you'll still be properly attired. I just have different standards than those you grew up with."

Scorpius barks out a startled laugh. "No kidding."

"Can you do it?"

It's the first time Scorpius ever recalls hearing that question asked with sincere interest, not a drop of derision attached. Knowing that Harry isn't interested in mocking him bolsters Scorpius's wherewithal. With a clipped nod, he says, "It'll be hard, but yes. I can do it."

Harry slides another parchment across the table. "These are my promises to you. My rules, if you will."

Scorpius reads the list at a fast pace. Harry promises to respect and care for him, to never hold him back in his career or with his family. To provide a shelter, a well of strength freely given; to share Scorpius's laughter and tears, his successes and failures. 

Harry promises to cherish Scorpius and to always acknowledge the gift of his submission.

"Submissive," Scorpius says. That word makes his skin itch, like he has a horrible case of Dragon Pox. He wants more than to be Harry's _submissive_. He wants to be his everything… body, mind, and soul. He wants to be Harry's slave. In all things. "That's not… will I always be your submissive or..."

"Where we end up, Master and slave, Dominant and submissive, that's for us to decide as we build this thing between us." Harry taps the bottom of the temporary contract. "It says right here that we'll come back and reassess in three months. That's enough time for you to be able to go through the checklist again with a better understanding of your wants and needs."

"Three months?" It's only ninety days. He can manage ninety days of _temporary_. Hopefully. 

Harry nods. "Three months and then we'll be right back here, doing this again."

Scorpius has read the contract so many times he knows it by heart. "Not magical?"

"Not on a short term contract that is likely to change." Harry glances down, looking at the contract, and then back to Scorpius. 

Makes sense. Magic and temporary are usually at odds with each other. "We start tonight?"

"Oh, yes." The look on Harry's face goes straight to Scorpius's cock. "You sign that and I go to bed tonight with a naked and willing sub chained to my bed."

Scorpius wastes no time snatching up the quill and scrawling his name across the bottom of the contract. 

As soon as Harry adds his signature, he looks at Scorpius with dark eyes and says, "Strip."

Suddenly being nude isn't anywhere near as distressing as he'd feared it would be.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Finding their footing isn't as easy as sitting down and negotiating had been. Harry expected the awkwardness, it's always there, whenever the contract is for more than one night of play. However, expecting it and having it dropped in your lap are two different things.

Finally, completely over the look of apprehension on Scorpius's face, and with his own jerky thoughts, Harry says, "Bathroom, pretty. Time to introduce you to the thrill of Muggle shaving."

He'll save the enema until next Friday. Scorpius is obviously teetering on the edge of overwhelmed as it is.

He leads Scorpius not to the bath attached to the master suite, decadent in its own right with the large open shower and the heated towel racks, but to the downright hedonistic bath attached to the playroom with the deep tub and the long tiled benches with built-in seats, where there are hooks and chains just waiting to be used.

Next time, he promises himself. Next time he has Scorpius in this room he'll chain him to the walls and, with their reflections echoing back to them from all of the mirrors, he'll fuck Scorpius until they both forget their names. 

This time, however, Scorpius has to bend to Harry's will. Scorpius _needs_ to do it to settle this thing between them, to get over the hump of _Merlin, fuck, what did I just agree to?_

"On the bench, right there where it dips. Take deep breaths and find your center."

Harry moves over to a cabinet, whispering a fast word of Parseltongue to release the privacy locks. Ignoring Scorpius, giving his boy time to settle himself, Harry takes out a mug and shaving soap, a soft-bristled brush and two straight razors, and the leather strop. He doubts he'll need to use the strop, he always keeps his blades sharp; however, he believes in being prepared for all possibilities. 

After lining the bench with each item, Harry opens another cabinet and adds three hand towels, all pristine white, and two vials of thick oil, one to sooth the freshly shorn skin, the other to lube Scorpius's hole. 

He can feel Scorpius's eyes on him, the weight of the stare heavy on his shoulders as he moves around the bath on silent feet. Only the sounds of their breathing – Scorpius's breaths raspier, faster than Harry's – fills the void. 

He spends a long minute washing his hands, making sure his nails are neat and trimmed. Then, wetting a fourth towel with steaming water, Harry asks, "Okay there, poppet?"

"Yes," Scorpius replies, sure and confident. "I'm good, sir."

Kicking a small stool into place, Harry sits between Scorpius's legs. He waves his wand and watches as the tiles ripple and bulge, slowly forming an extension for Scorpius to rest his legs against. "Spread out, boy."

Harry drags a hand over each of Scorpius's thighs, gently massaging Scorpius's leg from knee to groin. "I'm going to put the hot towel on first, let it sit while I whisk the soap into a froth."

He's not accustomed to explaining as he goes; however, between Scorpius's natural curiosity and his lack of experience, Harry follows his instinct and offers a running commentary. When Scorpius nods and relaxes back, Harry knows he made the right choice.

Mug full of warm, frothy soap, Harry pulls the towel away from Scorpius's groin and drops it on the floor. He uses short, deliberate strokes to coat the blond, near golden, nest of coarse hair with the white foam. 

Scorpius blinks and then, after a small tremble shakes through his thighs, he whispers, "Oh."

"Take a deep breath and let it out slowly, pretty," Harry says. "Use your words if you need a break. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Scorpius's eyes are wide, a light pink is tingeing the high edge of his cheeks. 

"I shave myself with a blade just like this, boy. I do know what I am doing."

Some of the wariness fades from Scorpius's eyes and, with another deep breath, Scorpius presses his back closer against the tiles. 

The light gleams and reflects off the sharp edge of the blade. Harry uses his free hand to gently move Scorpius's awakening cock to the side as the other brings the blade into first contact with Scorpius's skin.

He drags the blade in a practiced motion. One stroke with the grain, the second pass against the grain. 

Scorpius's length hardens more with each pass of the straight razor, and his breathing drops to deep, steady cadence. 

Harry bites back the smirk that wants to emerge, resists adjusting the hard press of his cock locked tight in his denims. He pushes his own need to the back and concentrates on the rhythmic pull of the razor.

With the grain, _against the grain_. With the grain, _against the grain_. Over and over until the skin of Scorpius's groin, and Scorpius's ball sac, is pink and smooth and free of the slightest stubble.

Harry takes a moment to simply admire the hairless swath of skin before he wipes the remaining wisps of soap away. Then he moves on and spreads the cheeks of Scorpius's arse wide.

He repeats the process – first the soap, then the pull of steel, and finally the soft swipe of the towel – along the cleft of Scorpius's arse.

He ignores the bob of Scorpius's cock, the same way he's ignoring the ache and throb of his own, and opens one of the glass vials. With the same diligence, the same exacting, slow movements, he massages the potion into Scorpius's skin. Then when the skin is glistening, Harry leans in and sucks up a bruise, a vivid purple-red mark of ownership.

"Harry," Scorpius says – _moans, whinges, whispers_. "I need…"

Wiping his hands on a towel, Harry exchanges one vial of oil for the other. Tracing over the ridged skin of Scorpius's entrance, he arches a brow and asks, "You need… what, poppet? What do you need?"

"You." Scorpius's hands curl and clench, knuckles bleeding white with the strength of his grip. "Please, sir… I need you in me. Claimed, need to be…" Scorpius closes his eyes and, in a fast rush of words, says "Fuck me, please."

There is no time or place, none at fucking all, where Harry would be able to ignore such a heartfelt, wanton plea. Growling deep in his throat, he scoops Scorpius up in his arms and, snagging the vial of lube with two fingers, carries him to the bed in the playroom.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Scorpius whinges when Harry pushes off of the bed. His skin is too tight, or too loose. He's not sure which. All he knows is nothing is fitting right, that it's all caught somewhere between too much and nowhere near enough. It's better, easier to breathe and float, avoid the cluttered clusters of too much and the wide-open empty spaces of not enough, when Harry is touching him, grounding him.

He wants – _needs_ – Harry to balance him. That realisation annoys and thrills him, makes him want to cry and scream and dance and laugh. 

It's everything he wanted and nothing that he understands.

"No," he whispers, reaching a hand out after Harry. 

"Easy, poppet," Harry replies, tugging his tee over his head and tossing it on the floor. "Next time I'll strip down before I shave you."

Scorpius's lips curl at the edges. Next time. He likes the sound of that. A lot.

Watching Harry shuck his jeans, Scorpius fingers the bruise on his groin. Pain zips along his spine and settles sharp and bright in his balls and, without even thinking, he drops his head back, closes his eyes, and moans.

The bed dips and the heat of Harry's body blankets him, and, before Scorpius can open his eyes, Harry whispers, "You like that, don't you? Like feeling where I've been, knowing that it was me who marked you?"

Scorpius moans again – this one built of need and frustration – and blinks his eyes open. He stares into Harry's eyes and says, "Yes."

And he does. He believes that if it had been anyone else, he wouldn't be half out of his mind with need. He's never reacted this way to a lover before. Doesn't believe he will ever again. This is it. This thing with Harry. It's the highest of the high, the perfect blend of magic and emotions, of want and need. 

With Harry clasping each of his wrists, Scorpius follows Harry's lead and pushes his arms high above his head. He curls his fingers around the edge of the bed, shaking and trembling, venting his anticipation with stuttered gasps of air as Harry closes cuffs – thick black leather lined in soft, brushed flannel – around his wrists and connects them to short spans of chains.

He doubts he'll ever get used to, or get over, being chained down. He's surprisingly okay with that.

"Spread your legs for me, pretty," Harry says, a hand on each of Scorpius's thighs. 

Scorpius lets his legs fall open. He doesn't know if he wants Harry to use the thigh cuffs again – Because, really? So fucking hot – or if he wants to be able to wrap his legs around Harry, to gain leverage and meet Harry thrust for thrust. A lone thought skitters through his mind: it's not his choice; he chose to sign that right away.

Harry sucks in a fast breath. "Such a good boy, pretty poppet."

The simple praise makes Scorpius's stomach clench. Merlin but he could get used to this. To feeling like he matters. Not for his magic or his name, not for the money his family has or the fact that he is the heir. But simply because he is Scorpius and worthy of the attention.

"I want you," Harry says. "Wanna love you and fuck you."

"Please." Scorpius forces the spread of his legs wider. The muscles in his thighs burn with the pull, the ache creeping into his lower back and settling tight in his balls. "No more teasing, not now."

"No, no more teasing tonight."

And then two slick fingers push into Scorpius's arse and the stretch – the perfect fucking stretch – of it makes his toes curl and his mouth fall open. Desire and need zing down his spine and out over his skin like the buzz of a stinging hex, and if Harry doesn't hurry up, doesn't spread his arse cheeks and drill him to the floor _soon_ , Scorpius just knows he's going to pop off like a magical firecracker – sparkly colours and all – and _earn_ his first punishment.

Earn it with a Merlin-be-fucked smile.

"More?" Harry asks, flexing his fingers in Scorpius's arse.

He should say yes, should beg for at least one more, maybe two. Harry isn't pushing a small dick and it's been a while since Scorpius has had more than a dildo up his arse, but he _wants_. Wants so much, so fucking bad, and all he can do is shake his head and say, "I'm ready."

"Liar," Harry whispers. "If I take you now, you're going to feel it for days."

Scorpius smiles softly. "I know."

"That's what you want, huh? Wanna feel my cock in your ass while we're at work?"

Oh, fuck. That sounds… like he's going to come right the hell now. "Harry, please. Not gonna last."

"You better, boy," Harry growls. "It's all on you, no help from me tonight."

"Oh, sweet Salazar… please."

"Now?" Harry's cockhead bumps against Scorpius's hole. "That what you want?"

"Yes. Now, want it, want you…"

Harry pushes in, one long stroke, balls deep, and Scorpius's words fade out and morph into a hiss of pain, followed quickly by a groan of acceptance. And of pleasure.

It's more than he'd imagined when he'd decided to pursue Harry Potter. So much more. 

"Wrap your legs around me," Harry says, _asks_ , outright commands.

"Thank fuck," Scorpius mutters. Canting his head back, pushing into the mattress until he feels the pull in the cords of his neck, he twines his legs around Harry, one about Harry's waist, his heel digging into Harry's back, and the other around Harry's thigh, the bunch and coil of Harry's muscles rippling beneath his ankle.

Scorpius cannot follow the tempo of thrust and retreat. There is no rhyme or reason, no method to the maddening change between Harry's hard and fast snap of hips and the slow, grinding strokes that guarantee Harry's cock dragging over his prostate, sending sharp spikes of _need_ yes _now_ through him.

And when time has no meaning and Scorpius is a hot begging mess, Harry releases the chains silently and says the one thing that Scorpius has been waiting for. "Grab your cock, pretty boy. I wanna watch you come."

With a tight grip, he tugs his cock once… twice… three times and then, balls drawing up, he comes.

"Hell yes," Harry murmurs, humping into Scorpius's arse. "So fucking tight."

Then Scorpius watches as, caught in the throes of release, absolute bliss washes across Harry's face.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Sunday night comes too soon. He's not ready to go back to the real world, where Scorpius has a job and wears clothes and won't be standing naked in his kitchen, quietly making them a light supper. He wants to call them both out on sick leave, give them time to settle into their new relationship.

Except he promised Scorpius he wouldn't interfere with his career, would never do anything to hold him back from advancing in the Auror corps. 

Which means it's time to pull his boy out of the quiet space they've been working all day.

Dammit.

"Looks good, poppet," Harry says, stepping in behind Scorpius and reaching around Scorpius's waist to steal a crisp. "Why don't you go get your robe on while I set the table?"

Scorpius looks at Harry, a frown marring his brow. 

Rubbing a hand down Scorpius's back, Harry says, "It's time, boy. Time to find the right headspace for tomorrow."

He gets one, two… four blinks in return, then Scorpius whispers, "Now?"

"Now," Harry confirms. Pushing gently on Scorpius's back, he says, "Go on."

One look at Scorpius's face and the desire to call them out damn near overwhelms Harry.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Late on a Thursday afternoon the alarm sounds and the Aurors on duty begin Apparating out of the office. Five minutes after silence fills the office, Harry is standing in the middle of the empty office so furious he's _vibrating_.

"Harry," Kingsley says. "Okay there?"

"He left without saying goodbye." The comment sounds even more ridiculous out loud than it did in his head. It's petulant and bratty and he really doesn't give a flying shit. "I can't believe he left without saying anything."

"Unhuh," Kingsley murmurs. "You hold that thought. I need to get some popcorn before they get back."

The comment makes no sense in Harry's present state of mind. "Popcorn?"

"Popcorn and Butterbeer," Kingsley says. "Got a feeling this one is going to be good."

Harry's lips twitch minutely. "Ass."

"Perhaps."

Long seconds tick off and then Harry mutters, "This isn't working."

"I'll refrain from pointing out that I told you this was going to happen."

Snorting, Harry shakes his head. "Yeah, thanks for not pointing that out."

"Just glad it only took three weeks for you to see it." Kingsley rubs a hand over his bald head. "Take next week off, both of you, and hammer out the issues. Fix it before it becomes a real problem."

"Like it hasn't already?"

Kingsley shrugs. "Not enough of one to cause issue."

Harry arches an eyebrow. "Really? Then why are you here?"

With another easy roll of his shoulders, Kingsley says, "Word was you were irritated today. Like I said, not enough to cause issue, but enough to get some attention."

Attention. Something that Harry had worked years to avoid. Lovely.

"We'll finish out the week, regular schedule tomorrow." Harry refuses to give into the blush burning through him. Absolutely refuses. "I'll take both of us off of the schedule starting Monday."

Nine days. That'll give him nine days with Scorpius. They'll either find a work around for their office time, or Harry will be ready to retire and find a way to talk Scorpius Malfoy into being a kept boy.

He hates to admit it, even to himself, but the latter option is sounding like his favourite.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

"The entire week?" Scorpius looks at Harry and frowns. Taking vacation time is not what he'd expected when Harry stopped him from stripping off as soon as they walked in the door – _"There's some stuff we need to talk about first, boy."_ – but it's also nowhere near as traumatic as Scorpius was imagining. "Why would the Minister request that we take a week off from work?"

"Because I'm not the only member of Element who works at the Ministry." Harry motions for Scorpius to come closer. "The Minister… Kingsley is a sub who can be found at Element almost every weekend."

Scorpius goggles with that tidbit of information. "The Minister? A sub? Really?"

"Really," Harry replies. "And, he's noticed I'm a little out of sorts…"

"Possessive," Scorpius says, a small grin taking shape. It's been hot, and has left him trying to hide a hard-on all week. "You've been a possessive maniac. People are afraid to even sit with me on breaks."

"Why didn't you say anything?" 

"It was hot," Scorpius says. "Really hot. To think you wanted me so much that…" A blush blossoms hot and fast over Scorpius's face. "Yeah, just, it was hot." 

"Right, then," Harry says, all sorts of smugness in his tone. "Here it is. Other people have noticed and didn't find it near as hot as you apparently have. Yesterday, while you were out on that call, Kingsley suggested that we take a week off just for us and, before we go back, figure the work thing out."

"A week together, here in your flat? No outside world? No leaving at night to sleep at the Manor?" Like he's going to say no to that. 

"I'd prefer that."

Scorpius nods. "I'll just Floo a missive over to the Manor then, yes?"

After Scorpius scribbles a fast note – _Taking a personal week, will not return to the Manor before Monday next. ~Scorpius_ – he looks at Harry and says, "Seriously? The Minister is a sub? 'Cause I just can't see it. He's always so... there. He takes up whatever room he walks into."

"He's almost as pretty as you are when he submits." Harry arches a brow. "Speaking of, time for you to strip, poppet."

Instead of using the spell, Scorpius takes his time, gives Harry a slow show of peeling each of the layers off. He's hard and needy by the time he's completely naked.

And dancing on the edge of that perfect place where the only thing that matters is Harry and the way they slot together, two jagged pieces making a whole. Sinking to his knees, he says, "Sir."

Ξ Ξ Ξ

It's a picture perfect display: head high and gaze down, hands nestled in the small of the back, and cock hard. It makes Harry's mouth water. He closes his eyes and does a silent, slow count to ten. Blinking his eyes open – _and Merlin, fuck, the boy is gorgeous_ – he says, "We're gonna push hard and fast, let both of us sink into who and what we are. Tonight's a quiet night, time for us both to find the balance we need, shed who we are out there. And then," Harry sets one hand on the top of Scorpius's head, pushing gently until Scorpius drops his head forward, "the rest of the week, deep submission, boy. Discipline in the mornings, necessary punishments at night. Service and reflection, and scenes. Find your center so we can begin."

Harry watches as Scorpius moves through some type of relation ritual. The tension leaves his body with no apparent rhyme or reason. His face smoothes out first, and then the muscles in thighs relax. The rigid set of Scorpius's shoulder is the last bit to give way, to settle into the graceful, accepting, malleable sub Harry has come to know.

The transformation always impresses Harry. Scorpius's ability to switch between Malfoy heir, Auror, and submissive is something he doesn't understand. There's no way he could shed his dominant demeanor in such a short time. He doubts he could do it given three times the amount of time, if at all. 

"Well done, boy," Harry murmurs, dragging a hand through Scorpius's hair. "We're going to forgo your inspection for tonight. Or rather, just incorporate it into our shower. Shave you again, then clean you inside and out."

Harry pauses, waits to see if Scorpius is going to try to escape the enema. Even as the tips of Scorpius's ears turn red, Scorpius's mouth stays firmly shut. Harry's surprised. Muggle enemas are the one thing that Scorpius has bucked against the most. 

"Good boy," Harry praises. "You might get to come tonight after all." 

Scorpius gurgles low in his throat. The sound is needy and wanton.

Harry's cock twitches and all he can think is it's a good thing he's going to come no matter what. Multiple times if the state of his dick is any indication.

"Go get the bathroom ready, boy. Shower last, after we take care of everything else."

He waits until Scorpius disappears into the playroom and adds, "Starting with you sucking me off."

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Monday afternoon the shift in Scorpius is noticeable. His boy is moving easier, more fluid with less of the jerky stiffness that is usually displayed during quiet times. It's something they've come so close to and then, because of work or Scorpius's request to spend work nights at the Manor, had to back away from.

Harry wonders if they had this all of the time, this commitment and togetherness, if maybe work would settle down some. He'd still be an overprotective arse, but maybe, if he woke up to Scorpius's mouth on his prick every morning, he'd be able to rein it in.

"One more day," Harry murmurs, watching Scorpius work silently through his living room chores. By this time tomorrow, they'll both be so deep in their headspace that they'll know exactly how good it can be between them. 

And hopefully that will help them find what they need to make this work at the office.

Because right now what they have, who they are, is working like hell on fire and there is no way Harry's going to willingly give it up.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Scorpius wakes up and pulls against the leather cord tying him to the bed. He's done the same thing every morning since the first one. It's comforting, knowing that he's held, locked into place because it's what Harry wants.

For the first time, instead of whispering the spell taught at the Auror academy, the one for stakeouts that empties out the bladder, Scorpius rolls towards Harry and whispers, "Sir, I need to go to the restroom."

Half awake, Harry murmurs, "Good boy," and then releases the spell on the leash.

Rushing to the bathroom, Scorpius shakes his head. Asking to take a piss had been beyond Scorpius. Like the Muggle enema, it was something that he just couldn't make himself do. Not with a smile, and definitely not if there was a way around it.

Until now.

Just as, he suspects, if Harry pulls out the nozzle and the bag, he'd gladly lay down on his side and let Harry take care of him, to see him at his most vulnerable and help ease through his embarrassment.

Washing his hands, he smiles at his reflection. It's softer than he's used to, lacking the lines borne out of the frustration of being around his father, of not quite living up to – or down to, based on one's opinion – the Malfoy name. 

He prefers this version. This person he can find inside of him when he's not living up to anyone's expectations but his own. He smirks as he adds, "And Harry's. Harry's expectations are just as important as mine."

"Yes, they are, poppet." Harry's voice filters in from the other room, startling Scorpius. "Now get your arse back in this bed."

Sliding back into bed, Scorpius says, "You have a surveillance charm set up on the bathroom."

"And you've been cheating every morning by using that damn Auror's spell for almost a fucking month," Harry returns. "Trust me, your arse is going to pay for it tonight."

A shiver works its way down Scorpius's spine. He hates punishments. Not because they're tedious or because Harry wielding a strap sincerely makes his arse hurt, but because of the disappointment that will etch its way onto Harry's face during the before punishment discussion. "Why'd you let me keep using it?"

"Wasn't sure if you were using it or using your words to break loose," Harry replies. "Set the charms last night to find out. Can't punish you for the wrong thing, now can I?"

Scorpius's lips twitch. "No, sir. That wouldn't be fair."

"Just like making me wait any longer for your mouth on my cock wouldn't be fair." Harry pushes against Scorpius's shoulder. "Attend me, boy."

Slithering down beneath the covers, Scorpius grins. Despite the promised punishment – or maybe, because of it, because there is follow through on all promises, good and bad – Tuesday is off to an awesome start.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Scorpius deserves a reward. That's the excuse Harry uses when, Friday morning after breakfast, he closes the Floo and sets the privacy wards, and then hustles Scorpius into the playroom. He tells himself that all through the shaving and the enema and the hot, steamy shower. And, as long as he doesn't say it out loud, he's more than happy to lie to himself and say that the only reason they're sequestered in the playroom, Scorpius as naked as the day he was born and bent arse high over a bench, is because his boy deserves a reward.

The real reason is because their time is on a countdown and Harry wants a day, one single day, where all they do is play and fuck. He doesn't think that is asking too much. 

Especially not when he's busy licking the three deep pink stripes marking Scorpius's arse. The cane had been the punishment for lying for damn near a month. One solid line for each full week Scorpius did an end run and used the spell.

It's the last time he'll use the cane as a punishment. His poppet had _shivered_ through each strike.

"Oh," Scorpius sighs. The louder, a shocked sounding, "Sir!"

Harry would smirk, if he didn't have his tongue buried in Scorpius's hole. Slurping and sucking, kissing and nipping. Doing anything – _everything_ – to drive Scorpius mad with need. Saliva dribbles down his chin, slicks over Scorpius's newly shorn ball sac. 

They're both a hot, sloppy mess. 

"Oh, fuck. Gonna… need to… _fuck_ , Sir!"

The words just spur Harry to move faster, plunging and retreating; he wants Scorpius to lose it, to cover the bench in hot, sticky come from nothing more than this. 

And then he's going to fuck another orgasm out of his boy.

Alongside his tongue, Harry wiggles a finger into Scorpius's arse and works Scorpius's prostate. And, when Scorpius whinges pitifully, Harry adds another finger. 

With two fingers pumping into and out of and into Scorpius's arse, Harry pulls back far enough to say, "As you want, boy."

He barely manages to push his tongue back into Scorpius's arse before the boy starts to come.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Scorpius is still shaking from his orgasm – his spectacular, let-me-take-you-to-the-stars orgasm – when Harry's cock pushes into him, the cold press of Harry's zip digging into the marks on his arse. He's too sensitive, too ramped up from his own release to fully appreciate the feel of Harry's cock balls deep in his arse. "Oh, shit."

The chuckle Harry gives him in return is downright evil. The sound hits Scorpius like the best kind of magic, wrapping around him like a hot blanket and sending waves of bone-deep heat over his skin. Then Harry rocks his hips, pulls out and pushes _right back in_ and the heat explodes into a million bursts of light and electricity.

He sure as hell appreciates Harry's cock now.

Closing his eyes, Scorpius groans. And shivers. And opens his mouth to beg like a Knockturn whore. "Please, more… yes, thank you… anything…"

Another chuckle washes over him. And his cock twitches, so damned interested and so damned spent. 

Harry's fingers trace feather-light over the marks on Scorpius's arse. "I'm going to cane you again," Harry says, his tone almost conversational. "Only the next time will be for pleasure." 

Goosebumps break over Scorpius's skin. " _Yes._ "

"And we're going to do it on the main stage at Element, with the lights focused on your back, your arse… your thighs. Your cries are going to echo around the room." Harry snaps his hips forward, driving into Scorpius hard and fast. "Gonna stripe your back until you come all over yourself."

Scorpius winces, his cock painfully going from flaccid to hard between one breath and the next. Fucking Harry and his perfect fucking voice and his stupidly perfect cock. "In front of…"

"In front of everyone," Harry replies, drilling into Scorpius again. "I might even send out invitations. Make a party of your debut."

He can see it in his head. The Minister on his knees watching as Harry swings the crop, as it swishes through the air and then lands with a heavy _snapsmack_ against his arse. A room full of people watching him beg for more, watching him fuck into the air. Watching him come, tears wetting his face while his come stains the floor. "Oh, _fuck_ …"

"You want that, don't you, boy? Want me to mark you, claim you where everyone can see?" Harry pushes in and grinds against Scorpius's arse. "You gonna beg me to fuck you too? Promise me anything just to get me to split you wide while you're hanging between the chains?"

The need to come slams into Scorpius, curling his toes and drawing his balls up tight. "Your mouth," he moans. "Your mouth and your cock and, Merlin, fuck… I need to come. Please, fuck, say yes. Let me, let me, _let me_."

Harry releases another one of those dark chuckles and murmurs, "Go ahead, poppet."

The consent just means he won't be getting strapped. Because Harry Potter's mouth is dirtier than any Muggle skin flick Scorpius has ever watched, and Scorpius was coming, permission or not

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Harry walks into the Ministry Monday morning loose-limbed and whistling. The week off had been good for him, good for Scorpius.

"Good to have you back, Harry," Kingsley says. "Follow me to my floor so we can go over everything you missed?"

"Of course," Harry replies, frowning. He'd Flooed in to the office twice while he was off, while Scorpius was doing chores. There hadn't been any mention of an important case. 

As soon as Kingsley closes his office door, Harry says, "I did check in last week, did someone hold something back?"

"Nope," Kingsley replies. "I just wanted to know if you're in a better frame of mind."

A smile curls the edge of Harry's lips. "Much, thank you."

Kingsley gives him a speculative look. "And it's going to stay that way? You're not going to start coiling tight again?"

"Not because of Scorpius," Harry replies. "We've got a plan."

A simple and easy plan. Two rules. If either of them had to leave the building, they will acknowledge the fact with the other, and Scorpius will eat lunch every day in Harry's office, with the door closed and Scorpius on his knees beside Harry. 

And Scorpius is adjusting his sleepover schedule, returning to the Manor on Tuesday and Thursday only. Tonight Harry has to make room in his closet for Scorpius's robes and trousers while Scorpius spends time reflecting and journaling about the past week.

He's actually looking forward to it.

"Plus, Scorpius thought of a way to keep me from worrying about things I can't control."

The last minute addition of Muggle, silver bracelets was just an added measure, an extra precaution. After finding them while window shopping, they'd spent Sunday evening blood-bonding the bracelets to them both, and loading them with protective and notification charms. The magic would help against minor jinxes and, should the protection charms prove to not be enough, they'd both be aware should anything happen when one or the other was out in the field.

The fact that the magic they'd used on the bracelets was as Dark as it comes isn't an issue for Harry at all. He learned a long time ago that it isn't the magic but the intent. And his intent was virtuous – be available to Scorpius whenever his boy needed him the most.

Not that he's going to explain that to his boss.

"I'm thinking I do not want to know about that. At least not with the roles we play here." Kingsley rakes Harry with a fast head-to-toe once over. "However, next time we're at Element, I'd love to hear about it. Sounds like something that might come in handy for other couples."

Harry arches a brow. "Like people doing a dance with a dragon handler?"

With a wide grin, Kingsley nods. "Just like that."

Shaking his head, Harry wonders once again how Kingsley and Charlie make it work. The distance, the time apart… he can't imagine agreeing to those terms. Heading towards the door, he says, "Tell Charlie I said 'hi' next time you two Floo call. Until then, I'll be in my office if you want to actually discuss the job."

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Late Friday afternoon, with a little less than two hours left on the work clock, Harry's sitting in his office pretending to work while his mind is squarely on Scorpius and the upcoming weekend. The small adjustments they have made worked, the week has passed without Harry feeling his muscles go taut with irritation and jealousy. They've both earned a long drawn out scene.

He has just the scene in mind too. Scorpius blindfolded and swaying in the sling in the playroom, lights turned down low, and Harry running his hands all over Scorpius while his boy drifted in the dark. No words, nothing but sensations. Fur gloves, vampire gloves, the smooth touch of silk after the rough scratch of burlap…

The burn of liquid fire pulls Harry from his thoughts. Pushing away from the desk, he rubs at his wrist and lets loose with a string of Muggle curses – _motherfucking, goddamn hell_ – and, with an anxious fear clawing at his gut, storms into the bullpen. "Medical emergency with team five," he shouts – _whispers, growls_ – and then Apparates directly from the MLE to the St. Mungo's reception area.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

"Mr. Potter," the Welcoming Witch says. "We were just trying to notify you. As you are listed as next of kin for Scorpius Malfoy –" Harry blinks once, surprised by the next of kin thing but too worried to pick it apart. It does mean, however, that the Healers cannot keep him out of Scorpius's room. "– it is necessary for you to approve certain treatments. You'll find him on the fourth floor…"

Harry turns and runs to through the double set of doors, leaving the woman muttering to herself. Fourth floor. Spell damage. Goddammit.

He takes the rickety staircase two steps at a time, silently sending out a prayer that the steps don't give beneath his weight.

Slamming through the doors on the fourth floor, it takes Harry two seconds to find Scorpius. If the gaggle of Healers, all robed in lime green, hadn't given it away, the venom of a most sincerely pissed off Scorpius Malfoy would have. "I told you, find Harry Potter."

"Like Harry Potter would be taking up with the likes of a Malfoy." An old, gnarled Healer shakes his head. "I think you put that on your forms as a joke, boy."

"I am not your boy," Scorpius hisses. "Please to be remembering that."

Smirking – because, seriously, _his_ boy is hilarious when he's overflowing with righteous anger – Harry pushes his way through the line of Healers. He stifles a gasp when he reaches Scorpius's side. Scorpius is pale and bloody, hurt in a way that makes Harry want to scream. Or cry. Swallowing once, he clears his throat and says, "Scorpius."

"Sir," Scorpius says, relaxing back on the gurney. "Please find someone competent in Healing."

"Easy, poppet," Harry says, the Gordian knot of tension finally releasing. There's damage – a long slash on Scorpius's left thigh, another pulling across Scorpius's chest – but, Scorpius is alive and reaching for him and Harry realises that everything is going to be all right. He looks at the nearest Healer, "Think we can find a private room?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter," she stammers in return. "We didn't know."

"You were told," Harry replies, following Scorpius's gurney into a nearby room. "Do not doubt that this is not the end of this conversation, however, right now, my priority, and therefore _your_ priority, is Scorpius." Taking Scorpius's hand, he asks, "What happened?"

"Slashing hex." Scorpius winces as the Healer drags her wand along one of the cuts. Immediately the skin begins to knit back together. "The arrest went south, the kid fought back hard."

"Anyone else injured?" Harry only feels slightly bad for not asking about that earlier. 

Scorpius shakes his head. "No. I was the closest to him, flanked to the left in the warehouse. When he stepped out and hexed me, Wilkes took him down with a stunner."

"Mr. Malfoy, you're going to need Blood-Replenishing potion every hour for a minimum of five hours." The Healer hands over the first vial of the thick potion. "We'll discuss releasing you after that."

Scorpius frowns and opens his mouth, surely on the verge of gutting the Healer with words. Harry arches a brow and, looking sheepish, Scorpius settles down again. Nodding once, Harry says, "He'll be right here until you say otherwise."

"And, um, your father, Mr. Malfoy. He's in reception causing quite a stir." The Healer looks between Harry and Scorpius. "Should I have them direct him to your room?"

"How'd he even know… Never mind, of course he's got a tracking charm on me," Scorpius mutters. "Probably knew the minute I crossed hospital wards. Please do, Madam. Thank you."

"I'll see you in an hour," she says, pushing through the door with a small smile. "Try not to let yourself get agitated, you are still recovering."

Staring at the closed door, Scorpius mutters, "Easier said than done when your father is Draco Malfoy."

"You're not facing him alone, boy." Harry tugs gently at Scorpius's hair. "Those days are long since over for you."

Harry finds the light pink that steals over Scorpius's cheeks absolutely adorable.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

"Thank you for representing the department, Potter, but you can leave now." Draco sends a fast glare at Harry, then immediately turns it on Scorpius. "My son and I need to discuss the current status of his medical proxy."

Harry doesn't move. He didn't let Draco push him around when they were eleven, he's damned if he's going to start at age forty-eight. "Malfoy."

"I said…"

"I heard you just fine," Harry says, forcing himself to use the same controlled voice he uses when he's talking lunatic wizards out of hexing the family dog again. He finds it oddly appropriate to use with Malfoy. "The only request to leave I'll take heed of is one that comes from Scorpius."

"Nothing ever changes with you, does it, Potter?" The look on Draco's face turns into one of expectation. "Go ahead, Scorpius. Tell precious Potter he may take his leave."

"No," Scorpius says, keeping his gaze on Draco.

Pride swells within Harry. By Scorpius's own mouth, he knows that Scorpius has never stood up to Draco; that Scorpius chose to walk away from the arguments because nothing had been worth battling over. 

That has apparently changed. And that knowledge, knowing that Scorpius thinks he's – _they're_ – worth fighting for, brings a flurry of emotions – and sudden realisations – for Harry. He… loves Scorpius Malfoy. Closing his eyes, he bites down on a burst of hysterical laughter.

Why he couldn't have had this specific insight into himself when Draco Malfoy wasn't shooting him daggers was beyond him. Fate, it seemed, still liked to kick him in the balls whenever she could. Shaking his head, he tries to refocus on the conversation.

And not the fact that he's in love with his boy. Merlin, fuck.

"…family business," Draco blusters.

"Includes Harry." Scorpius glances up at Harry, asking a silent question. 

Since he's _in love with_ Scorpius, Harry figures there's no reason to not let Scorpius out them to Draco. He gives Scorpius a small nod in return. 

"Because, you see," Scorpius says, talking right over Draco's protest. "It's Harry that I've been spending all of my time with. We've been involved –" and Harry hears the innuendo in that one word even if Malfoy doesn't "– for a bit now."

Harry's not sure he's ever seen the putrid colour of red that is blooming on Malfoy's cheeks. He wonders if he should call for a Mediwitch before Malfoy pops a vessel.

"He's… you're…"Draco stammers. "Absolutely not. I forbid it."

"I'm of age, Father," Scorpius drawls, sounding every bit a Malfoy. "You cannot forbid me."

"Perhaps not, but I can disown you."

Harry blinks. "Disown? You'd actually disown your son for being involved with me?"

"Yes," Draco responds quickly. "However, in this case, you are not the single cause."

"You see, Harry," Scorpius says. "I can't possibly reproduce with you, therefore Father has to do _something_ to continue the family line. Assuming Mother is in an agreeable mood, of course."

"What does that have to do with you?"

"Eldest son," Scorpius and Draco say at the same time.

Scorpius cants his head and makes a show of zipping his lips.

"It is required that the line continue with the eldest son. Therefore, if Scorpius insists on this foolishness, he will be disowned and a proper heir will take his place." Draco arches a brow. "Tell me, son, is Potter worth the Malfoy inheritance?"

"A million times over," Scorpius replies. "In fact…"

Slowly, Scorpius pushes himself out of the bed and, on swaying feet, makes his way to Harry's side.

A tendril of _oh, my, what the bleeding fuck are you doing, boy_ races through Harry.

Then Scorpius is beside Harry and sinking down to kneel at Harry's side and all Harry can think is _yes, there's where you belong, poppet_.

Scorpius settles his weight on his haunches, rests his hands on his thighs, and, lowering his gaze, he leans forward and presses his forehead against Harry's thigh. And when Harry gives up the fight and threads his fingers through Scorpius's hair, Scorpius whispers, "Master."

Harry stands strong and silent, supporting Scorpius with his presence. Until Malfoy says something _to_ Harry instead of glaring daggers, this isn't his fight.

Malfoy opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again. Turning on his heel, he heads to the door, snarling, "The Malfoy lawyers will contact you tomorrow. While you will still carry the Malfoy name, you will no longer be welcomed at the Manor."

The door shuts quietly behind Draco. 

And Harry kneels down beside Scorpius and holds him while Scorpius sheds silent tears.

Ξ Ξ Ξ

Leaning heavily on Harry, Scorpius crosses the threshold of the penthouse. It doesn't feel any different than it did the last time he was here, when he still had the Manor to go back to if everything with Harry went tits up.

"You called me Master," Harry says as he helps Scorpius onto the couch. 

"I did." He'd known this conversation was coming, just thought – _hoped_ – that Harry would wait until he was back at full strength. 

Harry licks his lips and then, eyes shuttered from emotions, asks, "Did you mean it or were you just trying to goad Malfoy into reacting?"

Oh. Well. When Scorpius had imagined the conversation, it didn’t include Harry's voice having so much uncertainty in it. "It wasn't to push him into reacting. If that was the goal, there are other ways I could have achieved it." Scorpius stops, looks away from Harry for a moment and then turns to him again. "It's what I wanted weeks ago, when we signed that temporary contract."

He sits up, pushing back from Harry. He has to be able to see Harry, to watch the emotions play across Harry's face. He needs to _see_ the truth of Harry's answer. "My turn for a question… Do you really want me here full time?"

"You know, when I was standing there ready to square off against Malfoy, I realised something."

Whatever Harry is going to say, Scorpius knows the answer to his question. It's there in the way Harry's eyes are lighting up, the flood of joy and arousal, happiness and … love. Smiling, Scorpius says, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Harry leans forward and, after bussing a kiss across Scorpius's brow, touches their foreheads together. "You're mine, Scorpius Malfoy. Bound by unbreakable chains, and marked in indelible ink. You're my boy. My slave. My poppet."

Ξ Ξ Ξ Ξ Ξ


End file.
